Surrender
by Erin Kronman
Summary: After returning to Asgard, Loki discovers the whereabouts of a powerful staff located in Alfheim. Claiming the staff is an easy task, but Fae glamour and a thirst to control those closest to him make for a dangerous combination. Post-Avengers.
1. Chapter 1: Into Fae Dreams

**I always ache to see love crack the fierce, evil exterior that villains put up. Loki's core is filled with jealousy and a thirst for recognition and love. But he is absolutely unwilling to surrender to it. He fights it because he must control it. It is the only foundation, however unsteady, that he has to hold on to. He has built his precarious world of lies upon it. But what if he were made to surrender? What if he were shown love and freedom, just a fleeting glance? Would he miss it when it's gone?**

******The story began as a one-off encounter between Loki and a Fae of Alfheim. The first chapter is told from Loki's perspective as well as the Fae's.**

******All reviews are appreciated!**

******-Erin**

* * *

Mirella gazed at her reflection in the small pool of her private garden. She ran her hands over the soft features of her pale, fairy-like face and drew her long, chestnut-colored hair over one shoulder. The gentle sounds of undisturbed nature floated through the air—birds chirped, squirrels foraged below the fallen leaves, the wind played lightly through the branches surrounding the grove, and somewhere in the distance the flow of a small stream underlined it all.

There was a rustling of something unnatural behind her near the garden's entry. _A pair of boots? In my garden?_ She stood calmly. All of her motions contained the slow grace of a lounging cat. She turned to face her intruder, and a smile quirked her pink lips. A slim, black-haired man stood just inside the short, wild hedge that marked her garden's entry to the rest of the surrounding forest. It easily blended into the woods beyond, but would be overlooked by any who were susceptible to Fae glamour—especially men. _Why is this man here?_

Her visitor was at least 18 inches taller than she was, but of average height for a man. His black hair fell to his shoulders and brushed the top of his forest-green cloak. He wore the garb of nobility, she recognized, even though none such designation existed in her own realm. She was familiar with the realms of men, as well as other realms where man-like beings dwelt. She had a genuine fondness for men unlike some of her peers who used all creatures for their own amusement. Men were different. Some men contained a will as strong as a wild stag. She held a certain respect for that.

She walked toward the intruder fluidly. She was clothed in faintly transparent gossamer fabric not unlike spiderwebs. It had a pinkish tint and billowed behind her gently as she moved. The tail of it trailed through the grass soundlessly. Dew drops scattered throughout the fabric shone like gems as they caught the the morning sun's light. Her movement barely made any sound. She was as much a part of the garden as it was of her—just another wild flower.

She stopped a few feet short of the man, and inclined her head slightly with an air of curiosity to look into his eyes. "Who are you that would enter my garden?" Her voice was as delicate and graceful as her stature, but a thin current of confidence and even mischief was detectable to her sensitive ears.

The man had an almost expressionless face, but Mirella could sense that he was picking his words carefully before he spoke. Perhaps he was having trouble even grasping at words; Fae had that effect on other creatures. The intruder knelt on one knee, and looked up slightly to meet Mirella's eyes. "I have come for your aid, if you would grant it."

* * *

With an effort seldom needed, Loki ignored the Fae's glamour and stepped into the hedged area roughly 20 paces across. The garden's owner stood as he entered, and proceeded to approach him as naturally as ripples in a lake. Her beauty upon any other creature might have swayed his senses momentarily, but she was a Fae. _I mustn't let her glamour affect me. I can resist it._ Coming here had been very far from the top of his list, and dangerous at that, but he had little choice given his situation. The Fae realm, Alfheim, was one of the few places he could enter with little fear of word getting back to Asgard that he'd been away. The Fae kept to themselves unless someone was stupid enough to become trapped by their charms. _I must stay focused on what I came for—information._

The Fae was quite short and petite, but he knew better than to underestimate her abilities based on her appearances. _I must be on my guard._ She stopped a long pace from him and asked coolly, "Who are you that would enter my garden?" Her voice danced in his ears like the melody of a song bird. He struggled to keep his attention on his mission. Even his natural resistance to magic wasn't much help when it came to this. Fae glamour was powerful. _I must stay in control._

He put on his best game face and knelt before her. _She must believe that I will submit to her, but I cannot falter._ "I have come for your aid," He looked into her pale green eyes and for a moment a vision of new spring leaves disturbed by a light breeze wafted across his thoughts dreamily. He pushed it away. _No._ He quickly lowered his eyes to study the dead brown leaves on the ground in front of him. "If you would grant it." He hoped his demeanor appeared sturdier than he felt.

She looked at him a long moment and amusement touched her smile, "Oh, but you are a long way from your own realm. Come. Sit with me and discuss your wishes." She motioned with a slender arm to a nearby fallen tree trunk.

Loki felt the allure of her graceful movements pulling him to dance, but instead he managed to stand slowly. "Thank you, kind fairy." He bowed his head slightly with a tight smile.

He followed her a few paces to the tree trunk. He almost tripped, but covered his misstep by pausing a moment to watch her take a seat first. He tried to avoid her eyes as he sat down a few feet from her, but their sharpness pierced his thoughts with their playful urgings—_laugh and dance with me_, they sang, _there is nothing but the song of the wind_. Loki steeled himself against the glamour.

* * *

Mirella sat comfortably upon the fallen trunk, never removing her eyes from the man who had entered her garden and asked for her aid. She beckoned him to sit next to her, but he chose a spot on the far side instead. The newcomer's motions were a clumsy bear's beside hers. He was avoiding her eyes now. Smart man. Smart, but futile, sadly. Men could not resist the natural glamour of Fae for long, if they resisted at all. Most men welcomed the freedom they felt while among the Fae. At least, men _believed_ what they were feeling was freedom. Does a puppet ever look up to see its strings?

"Why has a man such as you come to my garden?" She laid her hands gently upon her lap. Her presence there fit naturally; she could have been a vine overgrowing the log.

"Oh, I am no man, kind fairy," a small grin touched his thin lips. "I am from a higher realm."

She surveyed his clothing again and found a seal upon part of his clothing that she had missed at first notice. She might have been familiar with men, but she was not good with manufactured, unnatural details. "My apologies, Asgardian," she said with a small smile. "It has been long years since one from your realm has walked beneath our canopy. What aid would you seek of me?"

* * *

"I am Loki," He paused a moment awaiting her possible recognition. Many knew him by name if not by his face. "The son of Odin," he then added.

"Ah, the younger son of Odin has come to visit me," her voice sang in his ears again, but the word _younger_ blazed in him like wildfire. _I am the son of a king! I will have the power I deserve once I leave this wretched place. _He thought the hatred he felt towards his family overshadowed any charm she could have cast upon him, but he kept his face smooth. "I am Mirella, the Fae mistress of the garden which surrounds us."

Loki came back to the center of his thoughts again, to the center of his mission. "I am sorry for intruding upon your garden, Mirella. I have come for knowledge that you may possess. I am in search of a staff." Mirella's eyebrows rose subtly at the mention of a staff. _The cat sees a mouse._ "A staff rumored to allow who wields it to..." He trailed off as he met her gaze once more, this time without incident. Mirella was distracted by this subject. _Let's see if she pounces._

"To charm others with a Fae's glamour," she finished for him in a lower voice that seemed almost a purr. _Gotcha._ "That, Asgardian," she raised a smooth hand and ran it through the leaves of the nearest tree branch thoughtfully, "is a story unknown to most outside of Alfheim. There is not much to tell of it—it is a very old tale indeed—but I may share the story if you answer a question for me." Amusement crossed her lips again.

_There's no backing out now. I will have this information if I have to strangle it from her._ "Ask your question, and I will answer, Mirella."

She arose with her cat's grace and strode a few paces before she paused to look back at him. It was an effort for Loki to meet her green-eyed gaze without standing as well, but he stayed seated. _Dance with the wind, _he heard in his thoughts.

She leaned down to caress a small flower bud on a wild rosebush. "What is your true heart's desire, Loki, son of Odin?" She looked back to him, his eyes still upon hers, "I will know if you lie to me."

_She lies herself. She cannot know my true wishes by watching me._ All the same, Loki guarded his subconscious and answered carefully, "To rule Asgard." _To rule all nine realms. To make Odin proud of me instead of Thor. And I will make Thor pay dearly for holding me in his shadow!_ But he buried those wishes deep within his mind far away from his current thoughts.

Mirella continued to admire the rosebush for a time, long enough that Loki began to wonder if she'd heard him. But eventually she glided back to the log and sat beside him, close beside him. She reached out towards his face, and he shied away briefly, but she smiled and placed her hand on his cheek. _I must play the part this Fae expects_.

"Do not be afraid if you speak true, Asgardian." Mirella sounded as if she were enjoying herself, and Loki relaxed at her touch. _Be steadfast._

In her hand he felt the warmth of the morning sun, the coolness of a mountain river, the softness of summer grass, and the sturdy heart of an oak tree—all within one touch. He no longer wanted to avoid her eyes and found himself relaxing even more. He began to notice the soft noises of birds and other small animals in her garden and the pure earthy smell of the deep forest surrounding them. He felt compelled to speak again.

"Mirella, I—" _No. I will not give in_. He instead stated, "I spoke true indeed." _I will remain focused._

"I see." She gave no outward hint that she sensed the blanket of lies he locked away within himself. "I will tell you the story you seek. Close your eyes, and I will show you," she closed her eyes and told the story he had come looking for within his mind.

"All Fae and nature spirits of Alfheim are born to respect the will of nature which is the will of the forest god, the will of Freyr. Many ages ago, a spirit named L'Shale coveted Freyr's power for his own. The forest god could not abide his attempt to disrupt the natural balance, so with the sacrifice of one of his devoted Fae, he bound L'Shale in a staff made of willow wood. The staff he is bound in now bears his name. Its precise location is unknown, but the tale says it lies hidden in a grove in the valley of the Great Mountains. While L'Shale was unable to claim the power of the gods, the tale says that any who wield the staff may charm others as a Fae."

She opened her eyes when she finished the story. Her hand lingered at his face a moment, and she frowned with sadness and longing. "Why do you resist the freedom of nature? Do you not see its beauty and hear its song?"

_She's told me what I want. Time to go. _Loki's straight face betrayed none of his satisfaction. "Your garden is indeed lovely, Mirella, but I must go now. I thank you greatly for the story. It's exactly what I was looking for." He stood, but she caught his hand and stood beside him.

"But perhaps, Loki, _adopted_ son of Odin, it is not what you needed." Mirella's voice held a touch of sadness. She now understood his situation. Loki stared at her, and anger finally touched his eyes. _So she did see. The little weed read my mind when she touched me. Accursed Fae!_ He tried to jerk away from her grasp, but her strength matched his, and he did not budge. She only searched his eyes with a longing to lighten his angry heart. "Yes...I saw you are of Jotun descent. It explains your natural resistance to our glamour. But where you come from matters not. It is where you choose to be that matters. Would you dance with me a while before you depart?" She placed her free hand upon his shoulder, and he felt his steel resolve melt. _She cannot do this to me!_

Loki found himself unable to resist any longer. His attention was swept away from the web of plots and deceptions that he'd come to recognize as himself. In its place was only the present moment—only the garden. _One dance could not hurt..._ The information he'd come for was locked away safely, but out of his reach as he once again met Mirella's spring green eyes. Some part of him realized that he did not have to look down as far this time. _She is...taller now. _The forefront of his thoughts shifted to the purples and reds of the flowers in her garden and the natural curve of Mirella's slim waist as he placed his free hand around it. Her dress was as wispy soft as feather down. When he spoke his own voice sounded new to him. He felt refreshed. "Certainly, Mirella."

"Then let us dance to the song of the wind," the melody of her voice spurred him to dance. He began to feel a warmth grow within his heart. Warm spring replaced harsh winter, and he felt himself smile softly as they moved around the small garden lost in their own world. Time stood still.

_I cannot stay. _A voice in the back of his head tried to persuade him back to reality, but he ignored it—for now. _I must leave! No. Not yet. Please, not yet..._

Loki closed his eyes as the two of them moved together, leaves riding the wind. The floral scent of Mirella's hair, the sweetness of her laugh, the crunch of leaves beneath his boots, and the tree branches that swept at him as they passed were the only focus in his mind. After an unknown amount of time, a thought floated to the surface that he might slip under the glamour completely if this continued much longer—an urge to wake from a dream. _I cannot come back if I fall...I must come back..._

Suddenly, Mirella stopped. Loki stopped with her and opened his eyes. He gazed down at her—she was again her normal height—and came somewhat to his senses. He managed a small murmur, "Oh."

Her voice was ice cold and regretful now, "Losing yourself in the moment is a great gift and a most dangerous curse. You are the strongest I have met, Loki, and for that, I cannot hold you. It would be against my nature to make you stay." _Her weakness is strength of will. I am her weakness._ Any other time he would have filed the useful information away until it was needed as leverage, but instead he chose to gently squeeze her small hand in his. She slid away from his grip reluctantly to become a part of her garden once more. "Farewell, Loki. My garden will always welcome you." She made a natural motion with her hand that could have been a wave or the wind swaying a branch.

Loki began to feel relief that he could leave without further struggle, but his words betrayed the longing that she left inside him, "Thank you, Mirella. I shall remember our...meeting..." _How could I forget... _He hesitated a moment and watched her retreat towards the small pond at the far side of the garden. A breeze twitched his cloak, but it was just a breeze. The moment was gone. The glamour was gone. The forest was a sea of brown again.

Loki stepped out of Mirella's garden and began his trek to the valley between the Great Mountains. His feet felt much heavier than they had just a few moments ago, and his heart was cold stone in his chest. The world was dim. He drew his blanket of lies tightly around him, but it held no warmth. He willed himself forward toward his goal, but his thoughts drifted to the hedge behind him. _Maybe I will see her again...just once..._


	2. Chapter 2: Research, Relics, Riddles

The several weeks leading up to Loki's Alfheim journey had been short, but productive. He'd spent most of his waking hours searching through old texts and dusty crates in Asgard's great library. At first he had no set path for his intention—to gain the upper hand again, of course—but as he skimmed volume after aged volume of books gathered from all the realms, Alfheim kept pulling his interest.

Alfheim—meaning "elf home"—was home to the Light Elves, Fae, and many other other spirits, souls, and aspects of nature. Light Elves were humanoid creatures who had kept their ties to nature. According to several sources the Light Elves reside in a vast city that has not been seen by any outsider for thousands of years. It's location is either unknown, hidden, or perhaps it changes. The entire realm was supposedly large expanses of undeveloped forest land with one mountain range and various rivers.

Fae and other nature spirits reside in the forests and naturally emit a magic field that affects those who come near them. They can strengthen or turn it off at will. Fae spirits usually have a weakness which can sometimes be ridiculous or irrational—shoes, teacups, string, mirrors, certain words, certain smells—but they are powerless to react if their weakness is present.

Loki was particularly taken with Fae magic, glamour it was called. Fae glamour could work in different ways according to several accounts from victims and witnesses alike. A Fae's glamour could trap others in an illusion, compel them to carry out an act, control their mood, or simply influence the senses. All written information on the Fae was ancient and second- or third-hand. Alfheim's inhabitants kept no written records and were content to live as one with nature and time.

In addition to the dusty tomes it housed, Asgard's great library held hall after hall of time-worn tapestries, broken marble statues, and huge structures of fossilized animal remains. Shelves were filled with small curios, forgotten relics, stone goblets, glass dishes, and chiseled stone busts. Loki usually found himself alone in the library. Asgard's best were warriors, not scholars.

One morning he lucked out while rummaging through yet another room of cloth-covered crates and artifacts. Buried under items that had lain undisturbed for hundreds—or perhaps thousands—of years, he'd found a small nymph-shaped figure locked away in a disused box. The carving was no bigger than his palm and appeared to be made of wood, but to the touch it was hard as stone. The box labeled the figure as "Alfheim artifact; Description: wood carving of a nymph; Use: unknown."

Through a little trial and error, Loki discovered that he could sense and manipulate a weak glamour field it generated. It was a simple trinket, sadly. Its effect was to appear as a mundane object for a short time—a cup, a ball, or a pouch, for example. But its usefulness had been in verifying the fact that Asgardians could be affected by Fae magic. The glamoured object fooled others easily, and none could sense it was anything other than what it appeared to be. Even Odin did not sense the glamour. At least he did not admit to it if he did. Loki was not of Asgard himself, though, so he assumed his Frost Giant lineage and natural magical abilities must have allowed him to sense the glamour, resist it, and see through it if he wished.. "There must be a way to control it," he kept repeating to himself over and over as he researched more and more, little as there was.

After this epiphany Loki returned to two particular Alfheim texts he'd come across earlier that week: _Alfheim: A Study of Light Elves and Fae Spirits_ and _Journeys Through the Fae Realm_. The first contained all known abilities and descriptions of the inhabitants of Alfheim including Fae, Light Elves, and other nature spirits. Following his own "personal observations", the author presented the theory that Asgardians couldn't sense Fae glamour at work. His descriptions of Elves and Fae were fanciful at best, sadly. _Alfheim's_ author claimed Fae were little more than 8 inch high pixies that danced on water lilies and flitted about fields of flowers. After meeting a Fae, though, Loki reflected bitterly that he could write a shorter book containing more accurate information based on his one-day experience alone. So far the author's description of Freyr's position as the forest god had been accurate, but Loki hoped he wouldn't have cause to confirm that.

The latter book, _Journeys_, was written by an unfortunate human trapped in Alfheim for a time.

It contained a similar story to what Mirella had now confirmed for him. That was the key to his plan—the staff that allowed the weilder to use Fae glamour. The only information missing in the book's version had been the name of the staff and its location. Hence his need for consulting a Fae before beginning his trek across Alfheim.

The _Journeys_ author had also been a cartographer, and Loki hoped the maps the mortal had drawn would be helpful in finding _L'Shale_'s grove. He was surprised to see that the author's descriptions of the landmarks and forestland matched perfectly, proving that he had indeed been to Alfheim. _Journeys_ was supposedly a fictional tale, but much of the book's contents were quite true indeed. Perhaps it was the only way a human could get such a book published. The foreword of a later volume of human poetry cited that the author of _Journeys_ went mad shortly after publishing his book, claiming the Fae had taken him back to Alfheim. After spending years in an asylum he'd taken his own life. His last words were a scream of defiance, "Freyr will protect me! I am but a man! He will protect me!" _Weak and pathetic mortal. At least he penned something practical amidst the nonsense._

His gamble to travel to Alfheim personally had paid off so far. He had confirmed the tale of the staff was true and not a madman's concoction. Assuming he could find _L'Shale_, the remainder of his plan would take time to come to fruition, though. He disliked waiting, but it would be necessary if _L'Shale_ could not affect Odin, which he had to be prepared for given Odin's strength of will. _With the staff I can ensnare Thor to believe whatever I want. His skills are certainly no match for Fae glamour. And with the help of my "brother", I will show Odin my true worth. I will succeed him as king instead of Thor. No Asgardian will know how I did it. And they will all obey my command as king—what I deserve to be._

* * *

The trek from Mirella's garden to the Great Mountains was fairly uneventful and took the rest of the day. Loki avoided encountering any other Fae—once was enough for him. The weather was fair, the land was easy enough to travel on foot, and for an hour or two the forests even gave way to expansive grasslands where he saw several packs of wild horses in the distance. A large river ran north to south, and he followed it for a time before turning farther west. _Journeys'_ maps had been useful indeed.

Loki reached the valley between the Great Mountains just as the sun was setting over the forests of Alfheim. Most of the wildlife had been unnaturally quiet since he left Mirella, but whether it was due to the loss of heightened senses or some other reason he did not know. With his mind on more important matters, he dismissed extraneous details. He only sought the staff called _L'Shale_, the key to his plan's success.

He entered a grove of fruit trees within the valley aware that he was being watched. He was unconcerned with whoever—or whatever—was watching him, though. _I can handle the creatures that walk these woods. I've already proven that._ Even so, he quickened his pace.

It was late autumn so few of the trees still bore fruit. Most of the leaves had turned brilliant shades of gold, red, or orange except for the occasional evergreen. He did spot a few branches bearing ripe apples, but he knew better than to eat any food from this realm. He chuckled as he passed by them.

After a thorough searching of the grove twilight descended and brought with it softer shadows and washed out colors. He'd seen no altars, crypts, or secret passages. He sensed no deceptive or cloaking magics, although he could not be certain since Fae magic was radically different than his own strengths as a sorcerer. The grove was empty except for the trees, his unseen watcher, and himself. He could have been in any forest, yet somehow he felt he was in the right place.

There were a few taller trees throughout the grove, and a large redwood grew at the very center. He paused beneath the redwood while he pondered his next move. _It's here in this grove waiting to be found. _After some time he relented that he could get no further on his current information and decided to confront his watcher.

"Whoever watches me," he bellowed into the grove, "I seek that which you guard." For a moment there was nothing but silence.

Before doubt or irritation could take hold of him a low, booming voice from overhead answered, "What you seek cannot be found." The deep voice projected across the entire grove. The sound could have been a rumbling earthquake had it not spoken distinct words.

Loki looked up and surveyed the treetops for the source of the reply. He saw no movements save branches and leaves that swayed in the night's breeze. He demanded this time, "Tell me where _L'Shale_ is kept! I know it is in this grove!"

When the booming voice replied again, he saw that it was the redwood itself that had answered him. Three wide, healed-over gashes in its bark several paces up defined Redwood's eyes and mouth. Loki would have paid no mind to the scars had they not moved when it spoke. "_L'Shale_ is kept beyond your reach, visitor. It cannot be taken."

_It cannot be found. It cannot be taken. A riddle, perhaps? _"It cannot be taken... Beyond your reach... visitor..." Loki mumbled to himself as he stared up at the tall tree. The short twilight slipped away, and darkness blanketed the grove. His sharp eyes had no problem making out Redwood's features and the surrounding roots, though. He let his mind wander around Redwood's words, and he stepped over the tree's exposed roots idly circling the tree a couple times as he thought. The puzzle came together quickly, and he realized what the riddle was. _It can only be given as a gift._ He shouted upward, "Redwood, I have traveled from Asgard to know the magic of your grove. I would accept _L'Shale_ as your gift to me!"

Redwood's roots groaned and heaved in response. Loki jumped back to avoid the fissures created by the displaced, writhing roots and shifting earth. One of the larger roots nearest to where he stood rose from the ground to reveal a gnarled and twisted staff of pale willow wood. The staff's only adornment was a black, fist-sized granite shard capping its head. Besides that, it could have been a traveler's walking stick.

As Loki reached for the staff, Redwood intoned, "We offer this staff as a gift from the grove, Asgardian." Loki grasped the staff with one hand and pulled it free of the earth and roots holding it. "To one of Asgard, he is but a staff. But should he awaken, beware his wrath. Enjoy your _gift_." Redwood's rumbling voice made the word "gift" sound like "curse", but Loki ignored the inflection. He had what he'd come all this way to retrieve.

"Thank you, Redwood." He brushed the loose dirt from the staff and examined the shard of hard granite. It was black as pitch in the early evening darkness. Flecks of lighter-colored stone throughout it glinted in the rising moonlight. "I shall enjoy your gift greatly." For now, it did feel like just a walking stick. _We'll see its potential soon enough._

He pondered momentarily on why it had been so easy to claim the staff._ No one in Alfheim has need of a staff that lets them use Fae glamour. They already have that power, and few people outside of Alfheim know of the staff much less that it actually exists. And now it's mine!_ Loki formed a gateway back to his room in Asgard grinning like a fool. _All mine!_


	3. Chapter 3: Back in Asgard

**Thanks for the feedback you've all been sending me on "Surrender." It's been a great character exploration of Loki so far, and it will only get deeper from here on out. :)**

**—Erin**

* * *

Loki glanced around his room. All was as he had left it. Time passed differently between realms; perhaps an hour had elapsed in Asgard even though he'd spent close to twelve hours in Alfheim. Now it was time to test the "gift" he'd received in the grove.

He strode through the palace, staff in hand, searching for a test subject. As he passed the kitchens, several servants near its doorway paused in their duties to bow their heads to him respectfully with a humble, "My lord, Loki." Loki paused as well. He peered deeper into the kitchens with a growing frown on his face.

A man who had just retrieved a cask of wine from the cellar below asked him, "Are you hungry, my lord?"

"You might say that," Loki replied casually, his attention fixed on the busy room before him. He entered the kitchen to get a more accurate assessment of the long room. _About 12 paces wide, 40 paces long...and 53 people, waiting like sheep. _"But to be honest I'm more interested in the present work ethic..."

The manservant quickly bowed deeply, "What may we improve that would satisfy you, my lord?" Loki felt the man's nervousness and ignored the urge to laugh. _I know just what they need._

"My, but it does look dreadfully boring down here. You are all so serious-so meek, mild, and mundane." Loki smiled at the servant, but the poor man was dumbfounded having no context for where Loki was going with his assessment. The servants ignored Loki's speech and kept their attention on their work. "Live a little!" He gestured with the staff in a long arc in front of him that took in the entire room. Every cook, maid, and serving man ceased their duties, dropping their hands to their waists and staring blankly forward. Loki grinned in anticipation.

He gestured again with the same motion, and several of the servants began to clear a space in the center of the kitchen by moving tables, chairs, and racks to the sides of the room. Once a space large enough for a hall had been cleared, all the servants took places in the center of the room. They formed two lines facing one another. Loki looked them over thoughtfully.

"Well, go on. Have a ball!" Loki gestured a third time, but this time the staff seemed to shiver in his hands with excitement. _L'Shale_ was stirring, it seemed. The servants bowed to one another and extended their hands to begin dancing. They circled one another and exchanged partners as they began to move about the room in imitation of a feast day dance.

The servants sang, laughed, and clapped as if they were lords and ladies of the palace. Yet if anyone were to glimpse the kitchen now they would think the servants had gone mad. The music and merriment was in their heads—an illusion that swallowed them all. Loki smirked in satisfaction as he watched them dance for a time. _L'Shale_ quivered warmly in his grip—stretching after a long sleep—as if he wanted to leap in and join the festivities himself.

Loki was intrigued by _L'Shale_'s stirrings. It was truly tempting to feel the power of a rogue nature spirit—a power so great it was quelled only by the realm's god. "Not so fast," Loki gripped the staff tighter and forced his own will upon _L'Shale_ to subdue it—keep it caged. "I'm the one holding the staff if you hadn't noticed." _L'Shale_ pushed back with a mental force that Loki had not anticipated, but was still controllable. Loki waved the staff with a quick snap this time, "I guess I'd better set them right or we'll all starve."

The servants halted mid-step and gave one another bewildered looks. The serving man who had spoken to Loki before ended up back in the same spot. He looked quite shaken after the brief jaunt. "What's going on? You were speaking one moment then I— I'm not sure what—" The man remembered his place, then bowed deeply, "Forgive me, my lord, but—"

"What are you all doing just standing about?" Loki scolded everyone in the kitchen quite loudly. "Get back to work! You have a palace to feed!" The servants resumed their hustle and bustle, first replacing the tables and equipment to their normal spots. They kept their heads down and mouths shut, just as servants should. There wouldn't be as much as a whisper spoken among them about what happened. Discussing such nonsense was unheard of especially when it included a member of the royal family.

He gave an angry scowl to a serving maid near the door for good measure. She yelped, nearly dropping the set of empty bowls she carried. He left the kitchens swiftly, but slowed after a few paces down the hall. He glanced behind himself, saw that he was alone, and burst out laughing.

* * *

Elsewhere in the palace events ran smoothly. Servants completed their duties, warriors sparred and practiced, and King Odin paced about the balcony adjacent to his throne room. Since Loki's return a month ago he'd spent most of his afternoons there awaiting any who came seeking his audience. He also used the time to devise proper guidance for his troubled son. Disputes between Asgardians were rare, and complaints were non-existent, but as king he wanted to make himself available if his counsel was needed. In the past most dilemmas arose within the palace itself, usually involving his sons Thor and Loki in one way or another. Even more common were the conflicts between the two brothers. They might think Odin knew little of the tensions between them, but in their hearts they were aware that their father understood more than he would explain. It was a king's job to know his subjects, and Odin All-father was not just a king, he was also a god.

Diplomacy and defense were the trademarks of Odin's rule. It was a combination that frequently allowed his sons to rush headlong into predicaments he often pulled them out of by the scruff of their disobedient necks. Yet he was a forgiving father, and he accepted that his young sons must learn and gain wisdom through their own actions and decisions. It was the best way to prepare a boy for his future as king.

As for his sons' latest escapade, Thor brought Loki back to Asgard a month past, muzzled and chained with cold rage in his green eyes—but there was a weariness, too. Loki's failed subjugation of Midgard had left Odin, for the first time in his life, at a loss for what to do with Loki. He did not want to exile him to Midgard as he had done to Thor previously. He wanted to keep a close eye on his devious son for he was in need of guidance, not punishment. He'd declared that Loki would stay in Asgard to be reformed. But even for all his good intentions, Odin feared Loki would not change.

Loki had been withdrawn and pensive since returning to Asgard as if he was trying to pull himself back together. Odin knew Loki would be a ticking time bomb if he still held the same contempt before his prolonged disappearance, but his son had changed. His face was harder, and his attention was more distant, but he also seemed more brittle—ready to snap like a hot blade cooled too quickly. Yet Loki slid easily back into the cold exterior Odin had so often seen on his troubled son. Loki spent most of his time in the library now and preferred to be alone except when Odin summoned him to talk. When asked Loki would reveal few details of his time away from Asgard, except what was known from his failed takeover in Midgard. Odin managed to glean that Loki spent an unknown amount of time in the void between realms—a place which had existed only in a faint memory until now. Remembering his experience drifting in the void seemed to bother Loki and had left an "incomprehensible scar" upon his psyche—or so he said. Loki played his own games, kept many secrets, and trusted no one.

Odin halted his pacing when he sensed that Loki had re-entered Asgard. He'd not realized his son was gone until he'd felt his return. Odin spoke to himself, "Loki. What is that boy up to now?" Odin's attention fell upon Heimdall guarding his post at the now broken, jagged-edged Rainbow Bridge across the city. He sensed no new information from Heimdall—he had not been aware that Loki had been away from Asgard either—which meant that Loki must have traveled between realms on his own and shielded himself from being seen. A close eye indeed.

This new development gave Odin mixed feelings. He was affronted that Loki would travel freely when he had been sent back to Asgard to be watched closely. Yet a small measure of bittersweet pride welled in him at the same time. Such are the feelings of a father eager to see his child grow, even if it is in a misguided direction. _Why would he let me know he's back if he didn't want me to know he'd left?_ Odin sensed events that might come to pass, and knew that Loki must come to him. "So, he will seek me out. Then let us see which actions he would choose." _But this is Loki, and I must be prepared to stop him if he will not heed my guidance._ Such are a father's thoughts when he knows the heart of his son.


	4. Chapter 4: A Will of Fire

Loki's mood had lifted even more since his little test in the kitchens. He gave a self-satisfied grin to everyone he passed in the hallways. Many bowed their heads, but most walked by cautiously. All Asgardians knew Loki was usually up to something, and it was better—and safer—not to be involved. The staff's energy—_L'Shale's_ awakening energy—seemed to be filling him with a glorious high. He thought he could feel an air of impending freedom from _L'Shale_. Not realizing which hall he had turned down, he happened upon the den where Thor and his friends usually retired to for conversation. Loki did not consider them friends as Thor did, however. Friends were equals, and Loki considered his mental and magic abilities far superior to a warrior's courage, physical strength, or ferocity. They certainly had their uses, but Sif, Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg were no where near his equals. Loki knew no equals, therefore he had no friends.

He considered the den and saw another opportunity to test the staff's potential. He hadn't spoken to the four companions since his return—he'd had no need of them until now. _Yes, definitely an opportunity. _He opened the doors and swept into the room with a smile. "My friends!" He made a grand gesture that took them all in. "It has been quite some time since I saw you last."

The four companions paused in their conversation and eyed Loki every way except amiably, from disappointment to anger. "Perhaps not long enough," Hogun said flatly, but there was a hint of disdain in his frown. He resumed his study of the sunset above the cityscape through the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined one side of the room.

Sif's face wore the anger. She stormed across the room toward Loki, "How could you plot such an attack on Midgard? It is our place to protect mortals, not kill them and attempt to rule them as a tyrant!" Loki's sincerest smile and his upraised hands stopped her just short of punching him in the face.

Volstagg and Fandral wore the disappointed faces. Rather than interrupt Sif's tirade, they chose to continue their card game and hide their frowns in mugs of ale.

"Oh, Lady Sif," Loki said sweetly as if talking to a small girl who'd thrown a tantrum, "I forgive you your angry heart. I have a feeling all will be set right soon, yes?" She gave him a distrustful look, but lowered her fists. He then addressed everyone in the room, "I assure you, justice will be served," Loki grinned, but his tone became more and more wild as he went on, "It's time for me to claim what should be mine. Odin will not live forever, and _Thor—_," he sneered his brother's name, "will never be fit to take his place. _I'm_ the capable one, not him! I will deal with those who would oppose me, and all of Asgard will give _me_ their devotion instead of that headstrong lackwit who calls himself my brother!" He was surprised to see his hands gripping the staff as if to strike Sif. She'd already stepped away several paces with her back against the wall. Her anger and distrust had changed to fear and dismay. Fandral and Volstagg were paused with half-raised mugs, mouths agape. Hogun sneered warily.

Loki felt a sudden urge to seek Odin. _This is wrong. _L'Shale_ is dangerous. Odin can still help you before it's too late._ He pushed the thought away vigorously. _No! I do not need his help. I will control this power. I will show them all! And they... will... kneel!_ Loki felt fire run through his veins. _L'Shale's_ thirst for power burned its way into his mind, and he welcomed it. The torrent of rage and hatred felt beautiful—it made him feel alive. Recklessly it tumbled, blazed, and ripped through his thoughts. He wanted to reach out and heedlessly ride its fiery waves. It was his first taste of unbridled chaos, and he savored it.

_L'Shale_ quivered and burned in his hands with an eagerness to show off, and Loki allowed him to indulge himself. "To think you weaklings called yourselves my _friends_," he spat the words as he slammed one end of the staff to the floor.

The four companions dropped their previous expressions and stared at Loki with surprise—as if they deeply regretted their previous thoughts and actions. With great haste Sif scrambled to the floor in front of Loki and sputtered frightenedly, "Forgive me, my lord! It was inexcusable to raise a hand against you. I beg your mercy!" Her knees were tucked under her and she bowed her distraught face to the floor. Her body began to shake with silent sobs.

Fandral and Volstagg rose from their seats and flanked Sif. They knelt before Loki more gracefully than Sif's hurried genuflection, but with no less humility. Fandral spoke ruefully, "We are sorry we did not show you the proper respect due to you, my lord."

"Please forgive us, my lord," Volstagg bowed his shaggy head so quickly he spoke to the floor instead.

Hogun was the last to join the line of companions. "I, too, seek forgiveness for my comment, my lord. It was improper." He knelt beside Fandral to complete the line.

The sweet smell of fear surrounded them. Loki cackled with mad laughter at the display. "And now you are in _your_ place! How could those who kneel to me be equals much less _friends_?" His mouth twisted around the disgusting word again. To think they considered him an equal! The rage erupted anew with even greater force, and every muscle in Loki's body became a blistering furnace. The chaos he'd welcomed with so much hunger now threatened to burn him alive. Everything was replaced with a searing pain—everything. Screaming was an unbearable thought when every breath scorched his throat. He sagged, supported only by his hold on _L'Shale_, as he fought for control of his senses. It could have been a minute or a year, but eventually he heard his thoughts through the blaze. _Let go of the staff, you fool!_

Through the pain he forced himself to seize the charred remains of his control and release the staff from his tight grip. _L'Shale_ fell to the floor—just a nice walking stick by appearance. Loki dropped to his knees and his chest heaved with each ragged breath as if he'd fought for his life. He had, in truth. The magnitude of his outburst came from _L'Shale's_ anger, not his own. If Mirella was the spirit of wildflowers, then L'Shale must have been the heart of a volcano. _L'Shale is trying to break free, and he's using me as a conduit. I should have been ready for such an act. How utterly careless of me to give him an inch._

The companions' situation had not changed. Loki would need to release the glamour first. That is, if he dared to touch _L'Shale_ again. Only moments had passed since the willow wood staff had clattered to the floor, but the last traces of pain had already left his body. He weighed the situation momentarily, but in the end he was confident he could control the angry spirit. _I just wasn't prepared before. I'll expect it now._ He began to reach for the staff, but the hand he extended startled him. He pulled up his sleeve to reveal what appeared to be stone covering his entire arm. He hastily checked his other arm to find the same. He ran a hand over the now rough features of his face, realizing that it must have covered his whole body.

Mirella's songbird voice echoed in his mind. _Any who wield the staff may charm others as a Fae._ He laughed bitterly. _Curse Fae and their riddles. No matter, though._ Loki was a master of deception after all. He made his skin appear as it should with little effort. Others would not be able to see _L'Shale_'s effect on him as long as he maintained the deception. After his skin was set right, he again found himself reaching for _L'Shale_. He briefly considered the line of prostrate companions with a bemused smile, "I will release you—for now—but I do enjoy you four better this way." He tapped L'Shale once on the floor lightly, and the companions rose from their positions, bewildered and fearful. They backed away from Loki in unison. A flash of outrage suddenly tinged Loki's speech, "Speak to no one of this, lest you wish a slow, agonizing death." He adjusted his cloak with a tight smile and left the room briskly, _L'Shale_ rapping the marble floor as he walked.

_I will not lose control again. This power belongs to me now._


	5. Chapter 5: Brothers

Loki walked the golden halls and extensive walkways of the palace for hours, seething with animosity at _L'Shale_ and the spirit's attempt to break free. He would use the staff again—of that there was no doubt—but he would not allow L'Shale free reign of his mind again. It was too dangerous. Or was it? Would he dare to let the spirit in and control L'Shale within his own mind? Could he not set his own mental traps to snare the willful spirit? Now that he'd experienced L'Shale's potential, could he possess it for himself instead? Would he dare attempt to control such a chaotic energy? Was it a power struggle he could win? These were the possibilities that bubbled in his mind, and he wanted to settle them before continuing with his plan.

It was a very late, or very early, hour by the time Loki approached Thor's quarters. He now wore an icy cold, determined demeanor in place of the smiles and snarls he effected towards Thor's companions. He squeezed _L'Shale_ in his right hand as if it were a neck to choke. _I hold your reins, and you will obey me._

He rapped twice on the ornate golden door that designated Thor's living quarters and did not wait for an answer to enter. He pushed open the heavy gilded door, and found Thor staring into the burning hearth of the oversized fireplace that ran the length of the room's sitting area. Thor looked up at his brother's entrance, a reserved smile blooming on his face.

"Brother, I cannot say I've expected a visit from you, but I am happy you have come. I see my offerings of conversation have not fallen on deaf ears."

Loki could have quickly completed his task and moved on, but he decided to play for a while. He wanted to see the look on Thor's face as he turned the fool's stubborn, rock-hard will to dust. Loki began in a most humble tone, "Thor—brother," the endearing word was a bitter taste, but he continued, "I would share my thoughts with you, if you would hear them." _I will simply tell him the truth. If he chooses to see it differently than I do, however, that is another matter._

Thor was interested, of course, but he also clung to caution. He knew his brother all too well. When he brought Loki home from Midgard a month ago, he assumed his brother had been driven mad or fallen ill. Loki's calm, collected speech was somewhat unsettling to him now that he knew what crimes his brother was capable of committing. Odin had declared Loki safe to walk the palace without a guard, but Odin's trust or not, he would not take unnecessary chances with his brother. "Of course I would hear your thoughts, brother. I see you have a new staff..." Thor eyed the staff in his brother's hands.

"Oh, this? It was just a pretty gift; a shame it is not more useful." Loki walked farther into the room thoughtfully, gesturing with _L'Shale_ as he spoke as if it were a royal scepter. _L'Shale_ was a tool, after all. It had its non-magical uses. "I've realized much in the last month. I know that I have made mistakes in the past, and I do not wish to repeat them." Loki swung _L'Shale_ across the top of his shoulders, and walked at a slow pace as he strode the length of the fireplace. Thor stepped back several paces to give him room. "I have scrutinized every decision, every action, and every word I've spoken since I was last in Asgard. And I am..." he paused, searching for the proper word, "unsatisfied. You were correct in your assessment of my mental faculties. I have been lost for quite some time." He gave Thor a look that might have been rueful, but the emotion barely touched his eyes. "Fortunately, I have had a revelation regarding my place in this realm." He paused at the far end of the fireplace awaiting Thor's cue to continue.

Thor looked a little confused, but nodded attentively, "So where is your place then?"

"Why, by your side, brother." He circled Thor, speaking close to his ear as he walked behind him. "My strengths compliment your own. I am meant to _guide_ you, Thor." Loki's voice was smooth velvet, but he knew his words alone—however sweet—would not sway Thor. They never did. Thor was a man of action.

Thor turned quickly to face Loki rather than leave his back to his devious brother. His eyes briefly flashed a look to Mjolnir's stand in his bedchamber beyond where they stood. "I have always valued your counsel, and it has been only your recent transgressions that give me cause to doubt your wellness. If you have atoned for your crimes, I would welcome your advice once more." Thor's face softened with the admission, "I have always had faith in you, Loki, and I would never forsake you."

"Atone?" Loki's voice swelled as he weighed the term. "Well...I _am_ sorry for what I did on Midgard..."

Loki felt Thor's apprehension begin to fade at his "confession", and he paused to relish the moment as he contemplated his foolish brother. _This revenge will be sweet. Oh, so sweet..._

"...sorry that I failed." With a sneer Loki quickly swung the staff behind Thor's head and seized it as if to choke him with it. Thor grasped Loki's arms reflexively as surprise and anger crossed his face. So close to him now Loki could even see the twinge of disappointment in Thor's face. _Oh, so sweet indeed... _Scorn filled Loki's voice now, "You're going to be the one to fall this time, _brother_." Abruptly the staff burned his hands as if it were a hot poker, but he held it tightly through the scorching agony. His eyes burned with a sharp pain, interrupting his focus and causing him to drop his deceptive guise. Thor could now see his true appearance caused by _L'Shale_'s continued use. Loki's skin was gray stone and his eyes were two fiery red coals. Thor bellowed wordlessly as he struggled against the mountainous strength that held him—_L'Shale_'s strength.

_Thor must do my bidding. Events must proceed flawlessly if Odin is to believe him. Heed me, L'Shale!_

Thor beckoned to Mjolnir, pressuring Loki to regain control of himself before the hammer reached Thor's outstretched hand. If Thor held Mjolnir, Loki's advantage would be lost. Loki closed his burning eyes and regained his concentration quickly. He focused on the energy _L'Shale_ was releasing rather than letting it run wild—he needed to harness it. He envisioned a rope binding the staff and pulled at it tightly with all of his might. The burning sensations receded, and he was able to gain his composure and replace his deceptive veil. His grip on _L'Shale_ did not budge.

Loki spoke levelly with absolute confidence, "You will listen to me and obey my commands to you." The statement was as much for Thor as it was for _L'Shale_.

Thor's hand closed around Mjolnir's handle for a moment before it thudded to the floor instead. He ceased his resistance and removed his other hand slowly from Loki's arm. Thor's eyes shone with admiration, and an eagerness to please, "Anything for you, brother."

Loki removed himself from Thor's neck and stepped back a pace. "And stop calling me that," he commented disgustedly. Loki breathed a sigh of relief as his eyes fell upon the stationary Mjolnir.

Thor considered Loki for a moment, then dropped his eyes. "I am sorry if I have offended you."

"Of course you are," Loki said flatly. "Listen quickly and listen well. You must go to Odin at morning's first light to seek audience with him..." Loki explained the rest of Thor's instructions without delay.

* * *

Odin's morning walk through the palace gardens was interrupted by a servant bearing an audience request from Thor. He thought it a little formal, but Thor observed traditions out of respect, and he appreciated that. Thor had grown wiser and more patient, if but slightly, since Loki's disappearance, but his apprehension had increased tenfold since Loki's return. Thor was caught between a rock and hard place—support the brother he loved or punish a treacherous criminal? Odin understood the internal struggle intimately. It was the same questions he battled with in his own mind, but no one need know when a king contemplates indecision. Such hesitation can cause the downfall of a regime.

Thor's defense regarding Loki's judgment had not been unexpected. Thor, ever the righteous hero in his heart, had always been protective of his younger brother. At Loki's judgment after the Midgard fiasco, Thor stood for Loki's support when no one else would.

"Father, Loki is not well. A sickness has befallen him, and we must do what we can to support his recovery."

"I do not discount your wishes, my son, but he must answer for his destructive actions."

"Father, I beg of you to show mercy. He is your son—_my brother_. We are his family. Who else would be fit to guide him? He is not evil, only lost. And I will do everything in my power to aid him."

"Very well. Perhaps my guidance—our guidance—will prove beneficial. Loki will remain in Asgard until he is of sound mind and repents his crimes against Midgard."

A brother's love saved Loki that day. Since then Thor had tried to entice his brother to speak or spend time with him, but met with little success. Their short conversations were one-sided, Loki rarely offering more than murmurs about feeling fine and wanting to be alone to think. Thor became frustrated after several attempts and came to Odin with his predicament. "There are some wounds only time can heal, Thor," Odin had told him. "Perhaps, in time, another opportunity to help your brother will present itself. But for now, let him be."

Now, though, Odin wondered what questions Thor might bring before him today. He left the tranquility of the gardens for the throne room and his firstborn's audience.


	6. Chapter 6: Desperate Measures

When Odin entered the great hall Thor was awaiting him patiently. Thor knelt with right fist to heart as was customary reverence when addressing the king for counsel. "Good morning, father. I am sorry to disturb your daily respite, but I wanted to speak with you immediately."

"Next time, my son, you may come to me personally. I would speak with you straight away without formalities if it is so urgent a matter." Odin took a seat upon his throne. "Now then, why do you seek an audience with me, my son?"

Thor stood slowly, and his face wore a mask of regret and disgrace. "It is for a formal matter that I have come. Father..." The words seemed difficult for him to utter, as if we were forcing them, "I have come to relinquish my claim to Asgard's throne. I am not fit to succeed you as king."

_So, this is Loki's plan?_ Odin's mouth tightened at his son's statement. He spoke calmly, even though he felt quite the opposite. "You are entitled to abdicate succession. But I will not recognize it without sensible reason. Now tell me, my son, why are you unfit to succeed me as king of Asgard?"

"I have neither the wisdom nor intellect as befits a ruler, father. I would regret placing Asgard in danger due to my incompetence. My conscience would not allow me to continue posing as successor. Please allow me to step down, father." Thor's brow furrowed abashedly, and he kept his head bowed to avoid meeting his father's gaze. His son's shameful countenance bothered Odin greatly. _The boy acts as if he's already endangered the realm. What has happened to make Thor doubt himself this gravely?_

"Well then," Odin stood and descended the dais deliberately and approached Thor, "Indulge me, my son. In light of your confession, who would be more fit to rule, if not you?"

"You have another son, father. Custom dictates that succession would pass to him."

Odin was beginning to lose his calm tone. He would not allow this folly to continue. Accusation and anger—not toward the son before him, but the absent one—began to bleed into his words. "And he is more fit than you, Thor? Not a month past you claimed Loki was ill—befallen with sickness, you said. Is he well now? Is his selfish heart fit to rule a kingdom when it has not been fit to rule even himself?"

Odin stopped barely a pace away from him, prickling with growing contempt toward Loki. Thor lowered his eyes meekly. But before his son could answer, another voice answered for him.

* * *

"Am I really so unfit to rule Asgard, father?" Loki's voice rang through the hall with cool confidence. He had assumed his full regalia—armor, helmet, cloak—in addition to _L'Shale_ in his grip. He descended the wide staircase and approached his father and brother with a casual swagger that suggested his battle was all but won. "Are my skills so under appreciated? Am I so detestable that you would ignore the wishes of your beloved firstborn—your only _true_ son?" Loki gestured toward Thor, and Thor flinched visibly at the attention. "You cannot avoid the inevitable, Odin. If Thor should abdicate, the position of heir falls to me." He paused a few paces away and planted _L'Shale_ firmly in conquest.

"You are correct, Loki," Odin answered truthfully, "But I cannot recognize Thor's abdication."

"Why not? He spoke the words sincerely. It has been done."

"I propose the same reasons Thor chose for your defense, my son. Thor is ill. It would be an injustice to judge the actions of another while they are afflicted by illness—" Odin leveled his gaze at Loki, "or while they are under duress." It was obvious Odin was giving Loki a way out of the situation.

Loki considered backing down for the briefest moment, but _L'Shale_'s reckless energy called to him—it pulsed under the taut rope of control. The smile on Loki's face faded to a grimace. "Your ill-disguised guidance is foolish. You'll regret not confronting me sooner." Loki tilted _L'Shale_ forward at Odin.

Odin raised his own staff of office with a king's authority, "I do not know what power has possessed you, but I ask you one last time to reverse whatever damages you have done or I will be forced to do it for you, boy."

Loki only snarled in response and mentally eased _L'Shale_'s bindings. Although the high paled in comparison to L'Shale's first exhilarating race through his mind, he bathed in the hot rush and let it fill him as much as the short leash he held would allow. L'Shale's need to burn the world now became his own.

Loki tried to keep a steady hand on the rope in his mind that bound the spirit, but L'Shale now knew Loki's weaknesses—he understood Loki's thirst for power. Loki heard L'Shale call to him again. But this time there was a voice. _Loki._ L'Shale's voice was a slow, smoldering flow of magma. The voice was in his mind, but the sound was deafening. _Burn with me, Loki. Your heart is as mine—jealous, hateful, hungry. I have seen your mind. Use me. We will strike him down, Loki. Use me to claim your power. Let me in, Loki._

Loki stifled the urge to claw at his burning ears. He thought L'Shale had somehow spoken aloud, but Odin's lack of reaction proved the spirit spoke only to him. He could feel L'Shale straining at his bonds, burning them to ash with every moment that ticked by. L'Shale would be free this time if Loki could not suppress him, and the only place the spirit could go was into Loki's mind.

Loki's thoughts deliberated quickly. L'Shale's offerings of conquest were tempting, and Loki's conviction was faltering. _I can use him. His power is overwhelming, but If I let him help me, then together we can overthrow Odin— _ Somehow practical reason chimed in._ Fool! L'Shale is much too powerful for you to contain. If you allow him control, he might be able to destroy Odin...but what of yourself? Self-preservation above all. Curb your rage and end this struggle. You cannot allow L'Shale to control you. Do not give your power away so easily._

"No!" Loki spoke aloud in defiance of L'Shale's goading. He was oblivious to his outward conversation with Odin who would have expected this to be an answer to his question. Loki's voice cracked under the mental strain to hold L'Shale at bay, "_I_ control _you_!" Loki grasped at the charring bonds fruitlessly. His strength was fading.

_Loki..._ L'Shale's smoky voice rumbled again like coals shifting in a forge. _If you refuse to act, then I shall do it for you._ L'Shale torched the last of his bonds and set Loki's reality ablaze. Pain gripped him mentally and physically; his head felt like a screaming kettle ready to burst. He closed his eyes and pressed his free hand to one side of his head. "I will not be used! Not again!" Agony washed over him, and his knees began to buckle, but as before he was unable to release the staff from his grip.

Thor, seemingly forgotten in the midst of the confrontation, backed away several paces. The glamour still held him in paralyzing self-doubt, preventing him from acting as he normally would. If he'd been himself, subduing Loki would be an easy task. Now it seemed an unthinkable endeavour, a leap across a bottomless chasm.

Odin became aware that Loki must be under the staff's influence and advanced toward him to knock it away. Loki's eyes shot open and stared at Odin, blazing hot coals in their place. He pulled back from Odin instinctively, fluidly. L'Shale reached through Loki and used the staff's glamour to blind Odin. L'Shale was in control of Loki, mind and body. With head held high he gave a growling chuckle of amusement. It was not Loki's voice that left his lips, but a facsimile of L'Shale's voice, "So you are indeed susceptible to the glamour. This will be too easy." He levelled the staff at Odin, preparing to strike.

Odin paused his advance. He eyed his possessed son warily, but his gaze looked straight through him. "Who am I really dealing with here? You may have blinded me, but I can feel where you've touched my mind. I can feel your burning hatred. Let go of my son and reverse the damage you've wrought or face _my_ wrath." Odin struggled to throw off the illusion of darkness.

As soon as Loki realized L'Shale would break free, he fled to a safe place within his mind. His entire inner world burned, but he shut his consciousness away deep within it—a sanctuary surrounded by flames. He reached out for control of himself over and over, but met searing pain each time he tried. He continued unsuccessfully, but vowed patience would have to do for now even though failure meant eradication. L'Shale meant to take control of Loki's being wholly and burn whatever was left of the previous owner.

Odin threw off the illusion and lunged toward Loki. When his hand gripped L'Shale, he winced, but held tightly. Angrily he cursed Loki's selfishness, "So, you sought to control what Freyr had to lock away himself. You are power-hungry fool, Loki!" L'Shale sneered at Odin through Loki's eyes. "Release my son, you hateful spirit!"

Loki could hear his father's words, but it took all his concentration to attempt to regain control of himself. The walls of his mind burned even hotter. He could not bear the volcanic heat of L'Shale's energy much longer—his soul would turn to ash.

"I said _release him_!" Odin's staff emitted a blinding light that caused even L'Shale to shield his fiery eyes. L'Shale recoiled, and both king and spirit let go of the staff. A minute fluctuation in power occurred within Loki, the briefest of hesitations.

A fraction of a moment was all Loki needed to reassert control over his own body. L'Shale was powerful, but not infallible. _Patience paid off for once._ Before the staff could fall to the floor, Loki snatched it from the air, turned on the spot, and formed a gateway. Odin was still regaining his composure as Loki stepped through. The gateway collapsed behind him before Odin could follow.

* * *

**Chapter 7 will be the final chapter of this story.**

**I have a sequel laid out, and it will take a different turn. More details at the end of Chapter 7!**

**As always, thank you for reading. I appreciate the follows and feedback!**

**—Erin**


	7. Chapter 7: Goodbyes

Loki knew this forest.

His momentary gain faltered, weakened; he was running out of time. The burning pains began to return, but he dragged his feet forward. Forward into Mirella's garden.

Loki fell to his knees once he entered the hedged garden. His head burned, and he clutched at it with with both hands as he let the staff fall to the ground. Each breath stung his raw throat, but he hoarsely murmured, "Call— Freyr—"

Mirella's shining green eyes glistened with caution. She approached Loki slowly as a cat stalking through grass and laid a hand on the back of his head. She frowned with concern when she saw the staff, and her gaze trailed off into the distance toward the mountains—to where _L'Shale_ had been kept for ages until now. She closed her eyes to enter Loki's thoughts.

The inside of Loki's mind had become a jumble of broken parts, a home carelessly ravaged and ransacked. All around her she sensed barriers burning and memories threatened with incineration. She searched quickly for a familiar trail by which she could find his consciousness.

Everyone had a mental signature—a vision, scene, or representation that captured their essence. It took only moments, but she searched through years of his memories looking for him—he was hiding himself in hopes of slowing L'Shale's control. Finally, she felt his familiar chill and followed it straight to him. The memory was actually not a memory at all, but a construct—a created space within Loki's mind. This particular construct was a large castle. Loki crouched in the corner of a large well-furnished room. Bookshelves, tables, bed clothes, curtains—everything was aflame except for a small area that surrounded him. The flames did not touch her as she moved through the room.

She approached Loki and calmly asked, "Do you remember me, Asgardian?"

He looked up at her with a wry smile, "Are you here to join me in my own personal hell? Fitting that I should be accompanied by a creature that can control what I could not without burning myself alive." He then asked more seriously, "Is this room all that is left of me? Have I lost?"

"No, Loki. You are indeed like the wild stags I admire—strong of will and arrogant." She smiled knowingly.

He had no time for compliments. The flames and the pain grew ever hotter. He masked his anxiety with impatience. "Then why have _you_ come? Will Freyr not help me?"

"I have called Freyr. He comes with great haste. But time may pass differently within your mind. I have come to offer my aid, if you would take it." She took his hand, and he let himself be pulled upright.

Without warning the scenery changed. They were no longer in the burning room, but a massive frozen cave. The floor was slick and difficult to walk upon—it was ice. Loki looked around, puzzled. The pain L'Shale was causing him had lessened, but still remained like a braced wound. "Where are we?" His voice echoed through the expansive cavern. He tried to take his hand back, but Mirella held onto him tightly.

"Do not let me go. I have shielded you from L'Shale, but I cannot hold it for long. This place is how you feel to me. It is your essence." The cave was dingy, cold, and barren. Ice hung from the cave's rocky ceiling. It seemed nothing had been there for thousands of years, if life had ever existed there at all.

"This...reminds you of me?" His words were surprised rather than incredulous.

"Yes," she smiled, showing endearment for her choice. "A frozen underground lake. At a glance it is only layers of cold and darkness, but beneath the frozen barrier the lake's water teems with life. That is what you are to me."

Before Loki could comment further on Mirella's choice of venue, the cavern began to warm. Ice melted from the ceilings, and Mirella's serene face became creased with worry. "I cannot hold him back much longer, Loki. You must endure. You must want to stay alive."

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course I want to stay alive."

"You must not surrender to L'Shale. If not for your father's distraction, you would have been lost."

"You rummaged through my memories, too?" This time he did speak incredulously. Spite for his father's aid had driven him back to Alfheim rather than allow Odin to help rid himself of L'Shale's influence. No one likes to bring their faults to light.

"I've seen much of your life, Loki. I am sorry to have looked through your memories, but it was necessary to find you. You hid yourself well within your...castle?" The word was not part of her typical vocabulary. Her delicate brow furrowed slightly as her green eyes searched his face. "I understand little of Asgardian customs, but I did see that you are solitary by choice, not fate. A sheep that left the flock to become a wolf."

"I was a lion raised among lambs," he defended hotly. "I was not born to be herded; I was born to be a king." Comparing the warrior gods of Asgard to lambs clearly showed his lack of regard.

Quickly she countered, "Should you not first rule yourself before planning to rule others?" _What could a wild Fae understand of kings?_ He considered a refutation, but he knew her observation was correct.

The ice beneath their feet began to crack and shift noisily. The cave itself flickered, and Mirella clung to Loki's hands, but her concentration was overpowered. Abruptly the cavern melted away and heat rushed in on them both. They were back in the burning castle room again.

L'Shale's molten voice seared their ears. "Ah...so you do have a friend, Loki. You hid her memory well. And she is a Fae. How interesting! It was most kind of her to leave a trail straight to you—I may even let you watch her little green leaves burn. Knock, knock." The knock at the large wooden door could have been a battering ram.

They both turned to stare at the door, dropping each others' hands. "What's taking Freyr so long? Will he show himself here as well?" Loki ignored the returning pain for now. It seemed Mirella's shielding, however brief, had given him more strength.

Mirella looked around the room. "He may not appear as we have, but as a symbol or—" Her sentence cut off as she leapt across the flame-covered room. She beckoned him to join her, "Loki! The flames cannot hurt you if you do not let them. Do not fear him!"

L'Shale rumbled with growing anticipation, "Knock, knock!" The door threatened to shatter, but held fast.

Loki proceeded cautiously and found her advice correct—the flames did not touch him as he walked through them. _Well if it had been that easy before..._ The thought faded as he saw what Mirella had found. She stood next to a large bowl the size of a kitchen's cook pot—big enough that the two of them would need to work together to shift it. The bowl did not look carved, though, more like grown. It was rough and bark-covered to the touch and filled with water.

"It would seem Freyr has sent us some help—"

Before Loki could remark further on the bowl's origins, the door burst open admitting a large figure that could only be L'Shale. He towered above the two of them, a hulking conglomeration of gray rocky appendages that oozed lava from the cracks between them. A craggy mouth and two fiery coal eyes rumbled a greedy laugh as his hungry gaze fell on the two of them across the room.

Mirella spoke quietly so that only Loki would hear her. "We'll have to push it over together. The water will not defeat him, but it should buy us enough time to escape the room and trap him here. It will be up to Freyr to rebind L'Shale."

L'Shale lumbered closer, "Loki," Seeing him speak his name sent shivers down Loki's spine, and truly struck a chord of fear in his heart. But rather than betray his fear, he remained silent and managed to keep a straight face. "You have lost, Loki. I will take care of this place when you are gone. I appreciate all your help." L'Shale seemed to smile again—if rocks could smile. He advanced on the two of them in three strides, reaching for Loki with both of his rocky, lava-drenched arms. The lava fell to the floor in clumps, burning the carpets where it landed.

Loki stood frozen with fear. _You have to do it now! You have to get out!_ He willed his voice to speak and was surprised to hear himself shout.

"Now!" Loki yelled, and the two of them hefted the large wooden bowl so its contents splashed onto the floor and ran over both of L'Shale's legs. When water met lava smoke hissed and blanketed the room. Fires across the floor and furniture were extinguished immediately. L'Shale bellowed in pain, but the remaining flames in the room leapt even higher. While L'Shale struggled to maneuver his stiff hardening legs, Loki grabbed Mirella's hand, and they fled for the door. As he passed through the doorway, a cool wave washed all trace of L'Shale's destruction from his mind. The fire was no longer rampaging through his psyche; it was all contained within the room along with L'Shale himself.

L'shale crumbled and oozed toward them in a wailing rage. _No! L'Shale can't be allowed to leave that room. I'll just close the door and— _

Mirella squeezed Loki's hand before she let go of it. "Goodbye, my frozen lake. Stay strong." She rushed into the room and crouched between L'Shale and the doorway ready to pounce. She glanced toward the hallway, and Loki saw her face just before the door slammed shut. It was mischievous and determined, but her eyes displayed something else. It took a moment for him to recognize the look—she was regretful.

There was only silence in the dark hallway, dimness and silence. Her actions caught up with him, and he threw his weight against at the door frantically trying to open it. "Mirella! Open the door! There must be another way!" It wouldn't budge. _She's going to get herself killed. Foolish little Fae! Why would she sacrifice herself to save me?_

He let go of the door and backed away from it. When his back hit the wall he slumped down into a crouch with his arms around his knees. All the pain really was gone, but now it felt as if _all_ feeling was gone. The drab hallway seemed to press in on him, and the consequences of his lifelong choices weighed heavily upon his shoulders—he was very alone. _What does it matter that I rule these empty halls? This is only a desolate, nameless castle—not even a true place. Yet this is the cold world I have built around myself. There are no soldiers here to guard it, no subjects to rule, no one else at all to live for. There is only me. I am truly alone._

* * *

After an infinite moment of contemplation, Loki awakened to see a forest's canopy above him. He rolled over onto his side and winced. His body ached from head to foot, but he hoisted himself up anyway. He was not alone in Mirella's garden. Before him stood a tall godly figure who looked not unlike Odin in many ways, but he was softer, fair-haired, more fatherly, and clothed in animal furs and leathers—a god who ruled nature, but held a soft spot for all creatures great and small. A short ways beyond the garden a horse-sized golden-bristled boar rooted in the leafy undergrowth noisily—Gullinbursti, the god's mount.

"Freyr, I presume," Loki bowed his head ever so slightly. "I thank you for your help," he added almost begrudgingly.

"Loki, son of Odin the All-father of Asgard," Freyr's voice was indeed fatherly, but his tone suggested he could praise or scold equally with ease. _More like Odin than I thought._ "I should have expected to meet you one day, though I wish it could have been under less stressful circumstances." He raised his eyebrows and wiggled the staff, _L'Shale_.

"Mirella," Loki said her name with irritation. She had sacrificed herself to rebind L'Shale and save his life. _How could she be so senseless? Surely there was another way._ He glanced around the garden for her and found her lifeless body reposed upon the fallen log. Vines and leaves already covered her fragile limbs—a withered flower returning to the earth naturally.

Freyr seemed to read Loki's thoughts, "It was the only way, Loki. Do not judge her for her choice to save you. She held a lot of respect for your abilities. And you are meant to see greater lessons in life yet before it is your time to die." He gave Loki a knowing smile as cryptic as his foretelling.

Loki's voice perked with interest, "And how would you know that? We've only just met."

"Many of us gods can sense the fate of all living things—a god's intuition, perhaps. Some of us can use it more adeptly than others."

Every muscle in Loki's body felt bruised and stiff—he wasn't sure how long he'd been unconscious—but he moved slowly toward Mirella's figure on the overgrown log. He picked up a stray leaf that had landed on her face and examined it idly. His expression was tight, betraying no outward emotion. _Forgive me if I do not mourn for you, but you have my thanks as well. I can't help but judge your actions unnecessary no matter the opinion of your god._

Freyr crossed the garden to join him. "I am sorry you encountered L'Shale after his corruption. If only you could have known him in his youth as I did..." Freyr wistfully looked off toward the mountain range in the distance and held up the staff to admire its lump of granite. "His heart was not always so envious and hateful. L'Shale was a young mountain spirit once, but his power-hungry heart sought more than the solid foundations bestowed upon him. Over long years his jealousy compressed within him to form a burning hatred, and the only path he saw was to erupt. Forests and lives were lost to waves of molten rock. I could abide his hatred no longer and bound him to this staff. The mountain farthest to the west is all that remains of his shell—a dormant volcano. L'Shale saw in you a kindred spirit, a soul filled with jealousy and hatred. He sought control of your mind for his own gains. Much as you sought the staff for _your_ own gains. Two peas in a pod, eh?" Freyr gave a chuckle, but Loki was not amused. _This god and his sorry excuse for humor..._

"What will become of the staff?"

"It will be kept safe," Freyr gave Loki a wry smile, "But should it find its way into greedy hands again, L'Shale will stay as dormant as his former home. Ah, I believe your escort has arrived." Freyr motioned with _L'Shale_ to the other side of the garden. Loki turned to see Odin and groaned under his breath.

"Greetings, Freyr," Odin spoke briskly, but not impolitely. "I've come for my son, if you are done with him. I trust all has been set right with...L'Shale, wasn't it?"

"My heart warms to see you, Odin," Freyr smiled broadly and reached out to embrace Odin. Odin was a little stiff, but he allowed himself to be hugged—a warrior accepting a hug from a druid was quite a sight. "Yes, cousin," Odin flinched at the familial address. They were not actual cousins—more like friendly rivals. "L'Shale has been rebound to the staff, and your son will be right as rain with a little rest. His mental abilities are very exceptional."

Loki stopped listening to the conversation between Odin and Freyr. There were too many thoughts rolling over in his mind. _Mirella died—willingly—to save me. Why? How much hatred was my own and how much came from L'Shale? Why do I seek control of others? Is it not folly to put trust in others? Why am I no longer satisfied to rely only upon myself? Why am I bothered by the death of a foolish Fae?_ So many questions.

"Loki, my son, we must return to Asgard," Odin clapped a hand on Loki's shoulder. "You must be judged."

Loki nodded Freyr farewell and glanced around Mirella's garden one last time before forming a gateway back home to Asgard. His hand brushed the hedge that marked her garden as he and Odin left, the forest just a sea of brown.

Loki took them back to the throne room in Asgard's palace. Thor was there to meet them, obviously no longer influenced by the glamour. His face was weary, but concerned. "I do not know what you did, brother, but I am glad it is over. I felt as if I was trapped inside a nightmare. I doubted myself at every turn and felt as helpless as a babe."

Loki responded to his brother with a silent gaze that betrayed none of the thoughts and concerns which occupied him. Instead Loki gave in to his weariness and sank to his knees in the middle of the great hall. He maintained his emotionless silence, the day's events replaying and remixing in his mind. _...a kindred spirit...soul filled with jealousy and hatred...layers of cold and darkness...stay strong...you are meant to see greater lessons..._

Odin paced in front of Loki, his voice commanding and objective, "Loki Odinson—" Loki spared Odin a glance at the address, "you _are_ my son as much as Thor even if you do not choose to acknowledge it—you have abused your friends and loved ones for your own selfish gains. My own heart clouded my judgment when I allowed you to stay in Asgard for guidance. I now see that you will not accept that guidance. Perhaps you will choose a wiser path on your next trip to Midgard."

Loki's head sank, and he sighed. He had anticipated this judgment from Odin, but in a way he was intrigued by it. A different sort of challenge, perhaps, but it should be simple enough. _Why would she sacrifice herself to save me? Surely she understood me after looking through so much of my life. Why sacrifice yourself for a selfish, greedy stranger from another realm? She had nothing to gain..._

"You may return to Asgard once you have demonstrated a sincere understanding of compassion—to alleviate the undue suffering of others rather than cause it. Until then, you will live as a mortal. You are hereby exiled until I judge you fit to return to us."

Odin's words clicked in Loki's thoughts, bringing together a line of logic that could only make sense to Loki. _Of course...the Fae helped me to gain favor with Freyr. Who knows what status she may reincarnate with now. _But the voice became smaller, anguished. _No...I cannot fool myself. She really did care for me. The capacity matters not, but she did care. Thank you, Mirella. I was the fool, not you._

Loki nodded solemnly and closed his eyes, accepting the judgment in silence. For a moment he imagined an Asgard where he did not have so much emotional baggage—a place where he could stand by his brother faithfully and his father was proud of him—but that world did not exist. _It changes nothing to dwell on fancies. Here and now is all there is no matter how much I wish to change the past. I shall find a way home—one way or another._

And then the world was black. It was nighttime in Midgard.

* * *

**That wraps up "Surrender!" I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. I appreciate all your comments and feedback. Thank you!**

**I am currently working on a sequel entitled "Estranged." It follows Loki's mortal experiences as he comes to terms with several of his choices and flaws. Can Loki redeem himself or can there never be a happy ending for a villain? And yes, there will be a Loki/OC pairing. :)**

**Stay tuned!**

**—Erin**


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